


Am I Machine... or Man?

by Mandy_Meouch9019



Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: F/M, Humanity, Loss of Identity, Robot/Human Relationships, Self-Reflection, Soul-Searching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 21:39:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16773430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandy_Meouch9019/pseuds/Mandy_Meouch9019
Summary: Some Havve lore that I've been debating on writing: got inspired to share it now.





	Am I Machine... or Man?

My backstory... there isn't much to tell. Well, nothing as life-changing as my other compatriots have experienced. There was no home planet destruction or a divine calling that brought me to this new reckoning: joining three other otherworldly individuals to make music for a human world to eliminate ennui, or boredom, as most call it.

Being part of the Messier galaxy, I was mostly unknown: an undistinguished humanoid alien among many just going about in what I knew as life: until I had slain another in a fit of rage. Where this anger originated from, I don't remember... but seeing the pigmented blood on my hands and garments I knew this was the beginning of the end. 

I was arrested and sent to what most humans call a 'kangaroo court', which I can't understand why it was given that name. From the marsupials I've seen, they are quite intriguing and look pleasant to be around... nevertheless I was sent to where most criminals went and spent many years being experimented on by the cruel taskmasters who ran this facility. They were constructing some sort of robotic militant force to keep the system in line and what better way to reprogram those who broke these laws and send a message to those who wish to commit crime, and I fit their criteria to be 'reformed'. 

The process started immediately, after having the liquid sustenance they served me drugged, I woke up to find my feet and legs had been replaced with metal ones: it took an extended time until I was able to walk from the pain, and until I had recovered enough for their standing, the replacement procedures continued, each one more painful then the last. As I grew more autonomous, I attempted to fight my way out of this predicament, but they were always smarter, could predict what move I would make next. For the first betrayal, I was slammed to the ground, where I felt my jawbone shatter, only to have it forcefully wired shut. The second came when I fought the anesthetic for them to replace my brain, only to have them replace that as well as my heart with an ion battery of sorts. 

By that time, I was no longer the simple alien I had been before the trial: I was only a shell, controlled by programming and wires. They had fitted me with their custom armor, white plates and mask with a pronounced jawline and were readying to submit me to a beta test until a riot among the other inmates erupted, causing the perfect time for me to escape through one of their transportation portals. Unable to properly work it however, I found myself in a frozen wasteland with little means of shelter. Struggling through the harsh winds and elements around me I could feel my inner mechanisms begin to shut down. Luckily, I was able to conceal myself into a cave five yards away before I felt myself sink into unconsciousness. 

No one can say how long I was in that cave for, not even the humanoid who finally rescued me. But he did say it took him six months to find something to replace the ion battery I had in place of a heart, an 808 drum machine that still resonates in my chest cavity to this day. When I came to, I was automatically in attack mode, so I had came very close to killing my rescuer multiple times, but his speed and resilience kept him safe. He soon realized that I was unable to speak due to my mouth being wired, so one evening in his dwelling in Halifax, he carefully cut the wires that had fused my half robotic mouth hidden from the mask. Using an oil can to lubricate the joints of my jaw, the dark taste was something I craved instantly so the first word that came from my rusted vocal chamber was "Have..?" while pointing to the oil in his hand. Hence that was how I had been given my new name and identity. (How he added Hogan to that, who can say... maybe it had something to do with alliteration?) 

However I was very unwilling to open up to the Doctor, because I was afraid that he would turn against me, for that was all I had known. But after a while I had grown to find some common ground with him through a love of music, and he was awed by my natural talent and skill at rhythmic patterns. And in return he helped me find balance and understanding of this human world and the inhabitants within it. One day, in particular stands out in my internal memories... 

We were at a park on a particularly warm day, discussing the ripple effect and how every choice you make in life has an impact on the world as a whole, no matter how small. He was convincing me on how performing for the humans using instrumentation and song could bring happiness to other humans to slowly change the world for the better, over a lunch of summer-grown fruits. I had agreed to this arrangement, and we shared an embrace as the Doctor told me it is something that close friends do, when a man walking by made an insulting comment about it. Wanting to protect my new friend, I made my way to him, grabbing him by the throat and launched him into the deep woods that surrounded the park. Dr. Sung was stunned by this sudden turn in my behavioral pattern, dropping one of the plastic containers he held in his hands. Running ahead, I found the man, or rather the lifeless shell of him, impaled upon a branch. Taking him down, I desperately tried to find a place to bury him before he could find me, but it was too late. 

The look of anguish on the Doctor's face is one I can never truly forget, though he did not say a word. He merely teleported us along with the cadaver to another time and let me bury him in an abandoned field, not even questioning why I removed the man's hands, preserving them in a cryogenic container to replace my robot extremities with ones more capable for playing the drums without breaking them in the future. Once the task was complete, we went to a disclosed location where he took to cleaning the bloodstains from my armor. Apologies were the only thing I could think to say in that moment, but he felt like the one who needed to apologize. Stating that he, an individual who can see into the future, should've seen that outcome and prevented it from happening. 

In that moment standing before him, an amalgamation of alien and mechanical autonomy, I reached out to him with my telepathic link, passing it on to him, revealing my past and what I had been through, and telling him that he is not at fault for my actions: life is an unpredictable thing, and all we can do in moments like this is to rebuild and recover. The empath broke down from learning all of this about me, along with the events that had unfolded prior but I slowly knelt before him, drawing him close to my form. His weeping slowed in increments, as the beating of my 'heart' became the only audible sound in that location. 

"You may see me in a different light right now, Dr. Sung: I do not blame you if you do. But try to see the potential you had found in me, and know that I can improve. I believe in your goals and ambitions: they may fall astray, or they may become more then you have ever imagined. But I want to help in any way that I can for these humans... let that be my way of repaying for the lives I had taken." 

Doctor Sung looked up at me, the single pale colored eye he possessed that still worked glossy from tears, a look of awe and sadness that made me think of the expression he made when losing his parents to Boredom's physical form, before he became a psychological state that went to plague this planet. After a moment, he silently agreed and as his arms clung tightly to my form, I felt an acceptance and care that I had never experienced before. Thus, the friendship of Dr. Sung and Havve Hogan had begun. 

The rest of our story has been documented: meeting with Lord Phobos and Commander Meouch, forming the band known as Tupperware Remix Party, the members we've lost along the way, and friendships that have been built over these several years, things have reached a new stasis of normalcy. Looking down at my hands, callused from drum playing, but still intact to Dr. Sung's regenerative surgical abilities I do have doubts on how well I can truly connect with humankind. I cannot have a truly personal or even romantic relationship and my voice, when I do use it, sounds quite intimidating to a stranger, leaving me more often to just use my telepathic link with my bandmates to speak for me. But the Universe requires many roles, and I believe that I do well in the part she has cast for me... and though it had taken me centuries to find it, I would not have it any other way.


End file.
